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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227372">Cut Me Cleanly At The Knees</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobheroacademia/pseuds/mobheroacademia'>mobheroacademia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Real Person Fiction, Unus Annus - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Anorexia, Bisexual Ethan Nestor, Depression, Eating Disorders, Like He Is Not Vibing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sad Ethan Nestor, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:47:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobheroacademia/pseuds/mobheroacademia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"And I just want to feel happy<br/>For more than five minutes at a time<br/>Every now and then<br/>'Cause sometimes I feel so inexplicably worthless"<br/>-Cut Off at the Knees by Heart Attack Man</p><p>AKA. Ethan's realization of his feelings for Mark sends him into a self-destructive spiral with seemingly no way to fix things.</p><p>*THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION, DO NOT FORCE SHIPS ONTO REAL PEOPLE*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Unspoken Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i apologize for the short chapters! i'm gonna try to update more often to make up for it, it's just the best way to pace the story for now :')</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ethan always knew he was Mark’s shadow. Ethan looked up to Mark, admired him. It was so cliche, a blushing fanboy becoming the partner to such an iconic YouTuber.</p><p> </p><p>Mark was everything Ethan wasn’t. He was smart and cunning, charismatic and handsome. What was Ethan? Nothing more than a kid who pretends there’s humor in his chaotic actions and stupidity.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan got hung up on looks a lot. How could you not, being best friends with Mark? Everything about Mark from his kind smile to his toned body was <em> perfect </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan probably would’ve been alright if it ended there. Sure, his friend was hotter than him, so what? That’s totally normal! The only issue was that Ethan’s feelings for Mark were… well to put it simply Ethan was falling for him. Hard.</p><p> </p><p>His own self-image was never a huge issue. Well, that’s a lie, it was. All through his childhood Ethan struggled to like himself. After all, he was so scrawny, had such a different build compared to all the other boys. When he hit puberty things just got worse. He hated looking in the mirror, constantly self-conscious about his acne. It didn’t help that this was around the time he was discovering that he swung both ways.</p><p> </p><p>It was ironic, really, the fact that Ethan was bisexual, open to date pretty much anyone, and still didn’t have his first boyfriend until after high school. Even in a relationship he still felt like a freak, an outcast to the world. How was he supposed to like himself like this, a scrawny, acne-riddled, hyperactive mess? How was anyone supposed to like him like this?</p><p> </p><p>When he started pursuing his career on YouTube he discovered Markiplier. Ethan was instantly a huge fan, always cheered up by Mark’s charming personality and humor. It was pretty much a dream come true when they started working together.</p><p> </p><p>After they became friends, things were finally starting to look up. Ethan finally had something stable, <em> one </em>steady relationship in his erratic life. His friendship with Mark was the one good thing in his trainwreck of a life.</p><p> </p><p>It was right before the start of Unus Annus when things started to go awry.</p><p> </p><p>Ethan and Mark had finished filming a few collabs and were just hanging out on Mark’s back patio, fire pit burning and drinks in hand as they looked up at the stars and talked about nothing in particular. Being in Mark’s company was just so calming, so comforting. Ethan’s gaze shifted from the sky to Mark, his face illuminated by the flickering light of the fire. Mark turned to look at him too, still mid-sentence telling a story about some convention he’d been to.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In that moment his eyes met Mark’s and it all dawned on Ethan. His heart lurched into his throat and he suddenly felt wobbly and boneless, like he’d been turned into jello. His heart seemed to swell, his breath catching. Of course Ethan found a way to mess up the one good friendship he had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Fuck. He was in love.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Crimes Against Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>big tw for self harm in case you somehow missed the tags!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan tried not to let the revelation affect his content or his relationship with Mark, though he found himself avoiding excessive interaction with him. Somehow he suddenly felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>unworthy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>like the years he’d spent building a relationship with Mark were suddenly void, like he was the same wide-eyed fanboy trying to impress his idol with a backflip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mark suddenly seemed so far away, unreachable. Maybe it was because of the difference of how he viewed Ethan versus how Ethan viewed him. Maybe it was because a romantic relationship was so much different, so much more intimate than their friendship. Either way, Ethan just felt… inferior.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Unus Annus started, though, Ethan was really fucked. There was no more avoiding things, no more steering away from the tension that seemed to fill the air whenever he joked around with Mark. No more avoiding the person who unknowingly made him hate himself even more than he already did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The more videos Ethan did with Mark the more he noticed flaws in himself. The video that really changed him was the Nude Painting video. Something about the drastic difference between Mark’s build and his own, something about Mark’s sculpted muscle versus Ethan’s lithe body made his heart ache. Just another reason to hate himself more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan wanted to believe he was doing better, really, he did. He’d been making progress through therapy and medication for a long time now, but something about seeing the indisputable difference in their bodies sent him back to the dark place he was years and years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He relapsed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was one day after filming when Ethan surged into his apartment and rushed to his room, hands frantically grasping for something to take his frustration out on. He yanked on his hair, clawed at his skin but nothing was enough. His fist collided into the wall, then into his own stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan was punching himself over and over again but it wasn’t enough. Bruises were surely going to form on his stomach where his fist was hitting, but all he could think about was how weak he was, how incompetent he was. Mark could probably bruise him in one hit. Why did it take Ethan so much? Because he was fucking weak. Ethan hit himself on his forearm now, over and over in the same spot. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him he’d need to cover it with long sleeves, but another argued back that Ethan was such a fuck-up that it would be easy for him to make up a believable excuse as to how he got bruised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still just wasn’t enough. He needed to see damage, needed to destroy. Ethan went through the process he’d done a hundred times before. He turned on his stereo and amplifier, then connected his phone to the aux plug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As a song with heavy, screeching guitar and loud, pained vocals blared through the speakers, Ethan tore the case off his phone and retrieved the razor that he’d hidden under it. Common sense finally struck him while he was lining the blade up with his forearm. A bruise was easy to explain away, but a bunch of clearly intentional cuts? No way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan ran a hand through his hair. Should he really do this? What would Mark think? Did it even matter? Mark would probably think he was even more of a loser and finally leave him like he deserved. Should he even bother hiding it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan was so confused, so conflicted--and at the one thing he thought he couldn’t fuck up, nonetheless! He collapsed on the ground in a fit of sobs, bringing the small blade up to his throat. If he sliced now, would it be enough to kill him? Finally put him out of this endless cycle of torment that was his life?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of his phone’s ringtone. By instinct, he rushed to answer it, unplugging the aux cord and bringing the phone up to his ear. He hadn’t even bothered to check the caller ID.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-hello?” Ethan sniffled into the phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ethan? Are you crying?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course. Just his luck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mark?” Ethan felt his blood run cold, “No, o-of course not! What’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I was just... Ethan are you sure you’re alright? You really don’t sound too good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck, fuck--Mark was onto him. He had to fix this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dude, c’mon, you know I wouldn’t lie to you,” Ethan tried to chuckle to sound more sincere, but it just came out strained and pathetic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you said last time,” Mark’s voice had become colder. Ethan felt guilt and shame fill his body at the mention of the last time he broke down like this. Did he really have to burden Mark with his problems all the damn time? Mark shouldn’t have to worry about him like this. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?” Mark asked, already sounding like his mind was set on coming over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Mark, I… Really, I’m…” Ethan didn’t have it in him to finish his sentences. He felt so broken, so defeated. He wished he’d never answered this call. He wished he’d just dug the blade into his neck when he had a chance. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the phone before he hung up.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i honestly didn't mean for this to escalate so quickly but inspiration struck me for the first time in a month and a half so this chapter suddenly apppeared</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Halo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm so sorry i never update this 🥺😭 i promise i'm gonna have more chapters out soon. in the meantime take some plot setup.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan frantically rushed to dig the blade into his forearm. Deeper and deeper he pushed the blade, trying to damage as much as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want Mark to see him like this, to find him like this, but what else was he to do? Admitting he needed help to Mark would remind Mark that Ethan was just another burden to him. Mark would find out about Ethan’s crush and probably tell him to fuck off right then and there. He didn’t want to go through this anymore. He didn’t want to have to live anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be found by Mark. He put Mark through enough and for some goddamn reason Mark actually cared whether or not he shredded up his forearms. Ethan’s old friends didn’t care. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind they also weren’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>, moreso just the group of people he hung out with. Or the ones he used to hang out with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan couldn’t really think straight anymore. He was getting cold chills up his spine and through his neck, and he was starting to feel lightheaded. He couldn’t have lost that much blood, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan looked down at his arms and felt his heart drop. His hands were trembling and he’d lost almost all feeling in them. His arms… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ethan internally cursed himself, letting out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking thinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>and now he’d fucked up again. The gashes in his arms seemed to taunt him, the dark blood that dripped from them reminding him of just how hopeless his situation was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no way he’d be able to patch himself up, and now--</span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had to deal with Mark, too. Fuck, he couldn’t think anymore. He didn’t want to think anymore. Ethan was so tired and woozy and he knew he was making things worse for himself by drifting off but that was a problem for future Ethan to deal with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan barely registered Mark entering his apartment--didn’t bat an eye when his friend examined his wounds and interrogated him. He just stared off. Stared into nothingness. Nothing could hurt him when he was like this--floating, untouchable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Ethan snapped out of his dissociative daze he was seated on his toilet, Mark wrapping his arms in bandages with an unreadable expression. Fuck. He really fucked up didn’t he.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mark,” Ethan said quietly, barely above a whisper. It was the first thing he’d said since he hung up on Mark god knows how many hours ago. When their eyes met Ethan shrunk into himself more. Mark looked terrible, his hair matted to his face where he’d been sweating, his eyes bloodshot--had he been crying?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Ethan managed weakly, breaking eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mark sighed deeply, his hand coming up to rub his eyes. “You fuckin’ scared me, Ethan.” His voice was shaky in a way Ethan had never really heard before. “You’re probably tired as hell but we’re gonna need to talk tomorrow. Come on, I’m driving you home,” he motioned for Ethan to get up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Home? Wh-what do you mean, I am home,” Ethan asked, realizing that Mark was right, he really did feel tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Eth, but I’m not leaving you alone after that. You’re coming home with me,” Mark explained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan opened his mouth to object, but seeing the look on Mark’s face he decided it wasn’t worth it. “Oh,” he mumbled. Ethan stood up, taking a moment to regain his balance as his vision swam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Mark muttered, reaching to steady Ethan so he wouldn’t fall over. He wrapped an arm around Ethan to support him on the walk to the car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan felt out of place to say the least. He was in the passenger seat of Mark's Tesla, a place he’d sat tens--if not hundreds of times before, and, yet, he still felt like didn’t belong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he muttered halfheartedly, unable to meet Mark’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Sorry?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Really? You just attempted suicide and all you want to say is </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mark snapped, sending Ethan a glare that made him flinch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to…” Ethan said meekly. Mark softened a bit, sighing but not responding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They rode in silence the rest of the way to Mark’s house.</span>
</p>
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